


Compromised

by Taste_of_Suburbia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crying Dean, Cursed Dean, Dean is sorta terrified but also strangely pleased at this new development, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Gabriel Being Gabriel, Gabriel has Tentacles, Gabriel is still an archangel btw, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, No Tentacle Sex, Possessive Gabriel, Romance, Tentacles, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, h/c_bingo, i don't know what i'm doing anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-22
Updated: 2016-08-22
Packaged: 2018-08-10 11:26:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7843066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taste_of_Suburbia/pseuds/Taste_of_Suburbia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel’s usually a chatterbox, but it turns out he’s not only skilled at words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Compromised

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for h/c_bingo Round 7 for the prompt ‘tentacles’.
> 
> So I don’t disappoint readers from the get-go, this is tentacle comfort and _not_ tentacle porn, but hopefully I didn’t fail completely and it’s still a _little_ kinky. *running away to hide*

 

Dean was getting too attached to Gabriel.

It took Castiel’s advice about how to open up toward his brother - which he had _not_ asked for - and Sam’s not so clever attempts at further matchmaking to rid Dean of the stick up his ass that Dean _did not have_. Still, Dean prided himself on not caving and Gabriel was just as stubborn as he was about _feelings_ , despite being a ridiculous romantic when the occasion called for it; Dean learned pretty early on that _every_ occasion called for it _._ The archangel was infinitely more of the red roses, homemade pies and those deep massages that made Dean feel all warm and gooey variety, though Dean never put it past him to turn those ramblings of meshed together words into something that sounded more than half-assed. 

Maybe they both needed a push, even though Dean didn’t like to think about Cas working over his devil may care, ‘ _way_ more powerful it’s painful to think about’ brother. Could he even?

Mind blank.

Why couldn’t Dean just have some fun once in a while; why did it always have to mean something _more?_ It crossed his mind more than once that Sam was probably just jealous at not getting any, and considering their close quarters Dean _knew_ how pent up Sam was and constantly teased him about it. Then again, nobody was _really_ getting any unless their playmate was Gabriel. What could Dean say? That despite being an archangel Gabriel knew his way around a guy’s - a _human_ _’s_ \- body? That he managed to make Dean feel weak and _strong_ at the same time, powerless but in a kinky sort of way?

And Gabriel was _all his._

It was downright depressing that Dean hadn’t even managed to get a hold on the possession part, considering his own track record with _anyone_ trying to string together some semblance of a relationship with him. He doubted Gabriel was any better, didn’t ask, didn’t want to know.

The truth always hurt in the worst ways, and it always came back to bite you in the ass later too.

So Dean didn’t think, he _lived._ If he was taking Gabriel for granted; well, it didn’t matter much because how many times had Gabriel probably done the same thing? How many chances did Dean even get in the first place? How many months, no, _weeks_ would Gabriel stick around until he got tired of Dean’s endless buffet of bullshit?

Dean’s attachment would have to end right where it started, need for change be damned.

Except…

One hunt later, one which inconveniently involved a pissed-off witch leading to a broken wrist and a head that felt two sizes too big, and Dean started to rethink the whole ‘no attachments, no chick flick moments even for half a moment’ thing. Considering how mentally incapacitated he was at the exact second he started to regret his whole relationship with Gabriel, he really couldn’t be blamed for what ensued. Worse? Either Sam or Gabriel would inevitably use it as blackmail, and trade with the other.

Dean would groan but his wrist hurt too much as it lay limp against his chest. He should probably stop sobbing too - damn witch who worked him over both physically _and_ mentally - but it was just easier to lay there and cry. The curse the bitch had whammied him with rendered the agony bad enough that it felt like his insides were being torn out by bare hands every time he told himself to shut up and suck it up and _stop crying!_ It also probably didn’t help that he felt like he had been using Gabriel for all this time, and that Sam had been right all along.

Gabriel was like this other piece of him, this piece that made him feel whole, and he wasn’t letting him go ever again after this.

Two stuttering, gut-twisting heartbeats later and Gabriel was there; Dean didn’t even need to pray to him anymore, any thought would do. The mortified hunter firmly closed his eyes before he could read any sort of expression; he didn’t need to be the subject of amusement or horror _thank you very much._ Except… Gabriel was surprisingly good at the whole comfort thing.

Not that Dean needed it.

 A hand cupped his cheek, the pads of Gabriel’s fingers warm and considerate as they ignored the rough stubble Dean hadn’t bothered to take care of, which he knew Gabriel inwardly tsked at. The archangel liked it when Dean took care of himself, and was always pressing to shave him if not. Gabriel’s literally sticky, metaphorically slippery fingers didn’t _exactly_ put him at ease though.

Despite the nice gesture, Dean still didn’t open his eyes, fearing judgment and a million other things he couldn’t name. He hardly thought himself able to run, but he did satisfy himself by hiding as much as he was able, cowering against the nearest wall, waiting impatiently for the witch’s power over him to subside once she adjusted to being dead. That impatience led his mind to other things, among them whether or not he had gone deaf, considering Gabe hadn’t uttered a word since appearing out of the blue just as he always did, always with some elaborate and ultimately unnecessary scheme to get Dean out of his pants.

This was a nice change though: quiet, concerned Gabriel. A Gabriel who actually sat still for one minute while Dean waited for the world to stop spinning.

Unfortunately, the world only stilled for one brief moment before it lurched again, as the warm, human hand touching his cheek turned into something slimy but just as warm. The panic was even worse when he opened his eyes, when he realized what had once been a hand was now a _tentacle._

It was only a thought, but maybe it was the shock all along that had been doing Dean in, the outrage that he had been taken control of by some teenage witch and turned into a girl. And the tentacles were another jolt to his system - which he probably didn’t need - that managed to break Dean out of the trance the witch had put him in.

He jumped back but didn’t go far, back making impact with the wall. “What the hell, Gabriel!”

Understatement, considering that Gabriel had just sprouted twelve - or thirteen, or fourteen, _it_ _’s kinda hard to tell right now_ \- neon orange tentacles. Dean questioned the color even _before_ he questioned their existence, which is how he knew he was screwed. Through Dean’s mind jumping back and forth and to places he didn’t want it to go, Gabriel just stood there, towering over him like some glowy, neon-doused human sprouting tentacles for no damn good reason. Dean got the feeling he shouldn’t be seeing this _at all_.

 _Aren_ _’t angels supposed to have_ wings _anyhow?_

“I’m a trickster, Dean-o,” Gabriel reminded him, rudely intruding into his head; Dean was too tongue-tied to growl. “Who did you think invented tentacle porn in the first place? Not to mention the whole summer with Lovecraft, _his_ was a mind to be expanded. I’m not really into sex with humans, they can’t hold out long enough.” He flashed Dean one of his perky grins, “No offense. But that man’s raging libido was still my _only_ cake for that summer, if you get my meaning. Although, Cthulhu had _nothing_ on yours truly.”

No response. Honestly, Dean was just trying to shut his mouth and manage at the same time to not look _too_ disgusted or horrified or also sorta turned on. Not that Gabriel would probably mind any of those three things but still.

“It’s just another one of my forms,” Gabriel provided as a somewhat better explanation. Less weird? Nope. It was sorta Dean’s job to _work_ with weird though, except not necessarily to _date_ it. “Suck it up, kiddo. You want me, then you’re gonna have to take all of me, baby. Every one of my badass, flawless tentacles attached. I’m not saying it won’t take some adjustment either. Ha! These babies get a mind of their own sometimes.”

Dean didn’t want to think anymore after that; he just wanted the _still lingering_ witch to allow him to shut his brain off and maybe even wipe his memory clean after this.

Gabriel did look ridiculously hot though, even with all those slime-c0ated tentacles hovering around him, slithering in midair and reaching for Dean occasionally. _Mind of their own?_ Dean shuddered and might have nervously thrown up a little in the back of his throat. Gabriel glanced sharply at his new limbs, most likely demanding them to settle down and keep a good distance from Dean - and not to choke him - while he adjusted.

The archangel turned tentacle thingy turned his attention back toward Dean, a serious and suspicious expression crossing his face. “Why were you crying anyway?”

“Damn witch mojoed some chick curse on me.” It was the truth but it came out as more a line of defense. “What,” he sharply retorted at Gabriel’s clearly feigned bewildered expression, “you thought I’d sit on my ass and cry for no goddamn reason?”

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, sort of like with Cas but Gabe always did it in a ‘not so innocent and totally playing with you cause I want something’ sort of way. And Dean was triple screwed by this point: crying, tentacles, intense staring _that would melt me on a normal day but is just making me sort of terrified now._ “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before. Come here.”

The indignant look Dean shot him didn’t help, and Gabriel didn’t let him pull away when one of those dozen tentacles delicately - _oh god, I don_ _’t want this sort of vocabulary -_ wiped the still fresh tear tracks off his cheek, leaving behind a thin line of suspicious ooze. Warm and sticky like pie filling. 

Gabriel didn’t overwhelm Dean all at once; regardless, the compromised hunter tensed when a second tentacle slipped underneath the top of his shredded and blood-spattered shirt to caress his back. It rubbed small, slow circles into the abused skin that echoed the perfectly round, light pink suction cups on each of the archangel’s tentacles, one perfectly aligned row on each. Dean really wanted to ask him if he was some glorious tentacle monster in another life, but imagined it might be the wrong time.

A third of Gabriel’s dozen - definitely twelve - random and _surprisingly squishy_ limbs settled loosely around Dean’s neck like a collar. Dean’s eyes, like his head, had been growing ever-heavier from the exhaustion of the hunt, yet they nearly bulged out of his head at this, possessive bastard that Gabriel was.

Instead of Gabe saying something typically kinky, Dean suspected his tentacles did the talking _for_ him, two of which wrapped around Dean’s ankles slowly. Gabriel took his time and adjusted their hold while he not discreetly enough secured another two around Dean’s wrists, the stinging in his broken wrist abating quickly as Gabe’s grace, manifested in the tentacle, took care of it with no fuss. The bruised to hell and emotionally drained hunter didn’t or couldn’t work up the anger to mind despite the lack of warning.

Instead, he shut his throbbing eyes and decided that he should just let Gabriel take care of him, which felt less like the worst decision ever when he remembered the glaring absence of Gabriel’s laughter upon encountering Dean sobbing like a baby.

And he still didn’t know which was worse: the fact that he had been crying at all or the reason for it?

Didn’t matter to Gabriel, whose tentacles lifted him rather than yanked him up into the air. Had Dean been less distracted, he might have noticed two particularly thick tentacles settling under his back and wrapping securely around his waist, almost as if they were trying to bandage him. Before he could forget about those freaky suction cups, which were slimy yet silky at the same time, they latched onto his sore skin through the torn parts of his shirt and gently pushed grace into his aching body.

Weak at the knees couldn’t even begin to _describe_ this.

Dean moaned for a second as the grace smoothed out all the kinks and sore spots quickly though thoroughly; Gabriel always did a damn good job at that. The _tenth_ tentacle, Dean counted carefully, played with his hair - as if it wasn’t sticky enough already - and the eleventh and twelfth he could dimly hear fluffing the mountains of pillows on the bed, as if trying to create the illusion of clouds. 

Dean kept track of the tentacles until they were all occupied, all twelve easily accounted for even with his eyes closed. He hoped Gabriel wasn’t helping him out with the number, expected him to have way more than he was letting on. Dean’s sense of perception both terrified him and was an odd point of pride, and he could hear Gabriel chuckling at this softly, his grace-soaked voice like bells tinkling in the background but bells Dean didn’t have to strain to hear.

Gabriel’s grace was still bright in the darkness, until the intensity was adjusted to allow for comfort and to encourage Dean to trust him. The realization at just how much Dean _did_ trust Gabriel, to allow him to use his freaky though also incredibly soft tentacles to carry him to bed, slammed into him momentarily with no mercy. It was… comforting somehow, being taken care of in this way, all of Gabriel’s attention and _all of his limbs_ on him.

Usually at times like this, Gabe’s incessant rambling would put him into merciful sleep, but Dean was slowly beginning to realize that he was good at more than just words. As callous as the archangel could seem at times, there were parts of him that came out when Dean least expected them to; _good_ parts that made Dean feel justified in loving him after he acted like a winged dick Dean should have the good sense enough to smite while he was ahead. _Good_ parts that made Dean feel good in turn, and this was just another one of those parts.

Each tentacle released him at once as soon as they - probably better to just think of it as Gabriel right now - lowered him down into bed, except for the one rubbing circles into his back and the other running through his hair. The curse was wearing off too, so slowly but Dean could feel it being wrung out of him, Gabriel’s grace seeming to work in overdrive for more than one purpose.

It was probably that same grace putting him to sleep too, which was probably better before Dean traumatized himself further.

The bed was _so damn soft_ as it molded to his back. _Memory foam has got nothing on this._ It was just another thing to thank Gabriel for later, a list that kept growing every month and much to Dean’s discomfort, since there was no feasible way he could pay him back for any of this.

“No need to. Compromised _is_ the best look on you. _And_ you’re entirely too adorable when you’re all sleepy.” Dean grumbled and swatted at the tentacle _still_ in his hair until it retreated. The warm one vibrating slightly at his back disappeared too, leaving Dean comfortably warm and sated and all too ready to drop off into Gabriel’s carefully constructed and consistent dreamland, laden with cotton candy clouds and leaning towers of pies.

Except Gabriel wasn’t finished yet, dishing him another heaping plate of trauma and assurances he definitely _would_ make good on.

“Maybe these babies can show you a good time the next time they make a reappearance.” Dean groaned and threw a pillow over his head, wanting to sleep. “Don’t roll your eyes at me, big boy,” the muffled response came immediately. The pillow was dragged off his head and Gabriel settled at his back, molding to him even better than the bed did. “To be honest, I kinda wanted _all_ of you too, idiot.” Dean only felt one tentacle then, curling loosely around him like a blanket, like a secure hug, like a prayer.

Like a promise.

**FIN**

**Author's Note:**

> Hope I didn’t scar anyone for life.


End file.
